Of Oubliettes and Other Obstacles
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Broken bones, a concussion, and a hole in the ground. Yeah, no, this assignment was completely awful. Or, Jake and Ezekiel tumble into an oubliette and have to keep each other alive until help comes. Shouldn't be a problem, right? Lots of whump and hurt/comfort abound!


**Have you ever written a story and then just straight up _forgot_ that you never posted it? No? Just me? Cool. Honestly, I've been sitting on this for like a year and just never realized it was finished and hadn't been published. Grad school is a helluva a drug, kids. Hope you all enjoy! :D**

 **A/N: I own nothing =/**

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To say their assignment had taken a rather dramatic and painful turn would have been a remarkable understatement. They had had bad missions before, that was pretty much unavoidable. Murderous minotaurs? Sure, no problem. Fiendish fictional characters? Easy. Falling through the floor of a haunted castle into a dark, forgotten, subterranean dungeon? That was a new one even for them.

Jake groans and blinks up at the dusty, crumbling hole they had fallen through. It was a good 25-30 foot drop from one floor to the other and the landing had not been kind. Since he hadn't planned for a free fall, he landed awkwardly in a tumbling roll when he hit the ground. The impact had been bad enough, fracturing his ankle instantly and twisting his knee. He also jarred his right shoulder, which was equally painful, but the landing knocked the air out of his lungs and left him gasping and choking for several seconds as he struggled to breathe.

He's not sure what happened at first. He remembers investigating the dungeon, looking for whatever magical artifact might be responsible for the sudden surge of ghostly activity in the castle. The dungeon had seemed like a good place to start, no creepy castle was complete without a dungeon, and it seemed logical that a magical artifact could have been tucked away in the lower catacombs. So he distinctly remembers going down there, flashlight in hand, searching for...something.

There had been a little alcove at the furthest corner of the room, tucked away and hidden in the shadows. He thought at first it might lead to another room but closer examination revealed it was nothing more than a shallow recess in the wall. There had been a noise then, somewhere between a loud crack and deep grumble like the earth itself was growling. There was a shout, a moment of weightlessness and then...well, then he was down here. Problem is, he's not exactly sure where down here _is._

It looks like a much smaller version of the dungeon above, confined and cramped and all together uncomfortable. The air felt thick and damp, heavy with dust and the smell of dirt and stale water. Save for the small patch of light streaming in from above, the entire room is pitch black and shrouded in darkness. It was cold too, the kind of deep, seeping cold that cut through clothing and wicked away warmth with devastating efficiency. The room felt like a tomb in every sense of the word and they had landed right in the middle of it.

Jake groans again and manages to push himself up onto one elbow, wincing as the movement causes his other shoulder to throb. From what little he could see from the dim light filtering through the hole above, there didn't appear to be a door or any kind of entrance other than where they'd fallen through. Which meant one way in and one way out. Great.

He grimaces and coughs, the sound echoing and bouncing off the walls above. "Hey Jones," he says, his voice still a little weak and thready from having the wind knocked out of him a few seconds before. He looks around but it's hard to see anything outside of the small circle of light peeking through the hole overhead. He clears his throat and tries again. "Jones, where are you?"

For a moment there's nothing but cold, dark silence and Jake feels a tug of concern in his chest. He knows Ezekiel fell down here with him; in fact, Ezekiel was the one who had fallen in first and Jake, in his effort to catch him, fell in behind him. There's nowhere else he could have gone but he's not answering and that's ratcheting Jake's panic level from two to twenty.

Jake winces and pushes himself all the way up into a sitting position. His leg and ankle are throbbing viciously, his shoulder following suit, and he knows climbing out of here won't be an option. He has more pressing concerns at the moment though; mainly where is Ezekiel Jones and why isn't he answering him.

It's nearly too dark to see anything outside of the patch of light he's sitting in but Jake manages to see a shadowy, crumpled figure a few feet away. Between the dust and the darkness, it's hard to be sure what it is but it has the shape and outline of a body. Said figure is deathly still and Jake feels his heart drop to his stomach. "Jones," he calls out again, half-crawling, half-dragging himself across the cold floor toward the other Librarian. "Come on, kid, answer me!"

A dozen horrible thoughts flutter through his mind as he inches toward his fallen companion. What if Ezekiel broke his neck when he landed? What if he broke his back? What if he was still alive but slowly and painfully dying from internal bleeding? All this races through his head in the five seconds it takes to reach him and Jake is on the verge of complete panic.

Ezekiel still hasn't moved, hasn't made a sound, and Jake can't tell if he's breathing. He's almost afraid to touch him when he finally reaches him. He swallows hard, bracing himself for whatever is about to happen, and reaches out to lay his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

Ezekiel flinches then, hissing sharply and slowly rolling onto his back. He grumbles out an impressive string of curses and grits his teeth tightly. Jake is so relieved he's alive that he can't even stop the half-hysterical laugh that cuts out of him. "Jesus, kid, I thought you were dead."

The other Librarian shakes his head once and groans painfully at the movement. "Not dead," he mumbles, voice tight and clipped with pain. "Though I'm starting to wish I was."

His face is covered in dust and grime, dark, mud-caked blood covering one side of his head and coating his neck. There's a gash about three inches long that snakes along his forehead and disappears into his hair. It looks painful but not deep enough to be immediately alarming.

Ezekiel groans again and glares up at the ceiling. "What the hell happened?"

Jake frowns and follows his gaze toward the opening in what had been the floor above their heads. "We fell through the floor," he says simply; he doesn't have the energy to expand on that at the moment. "Remember? You found that crack in the floor and thought it might lead to a secret room." Jakes sighs and shakes his head. "Well, you were right."

Ezekiel grits his teeth and hisses again. "Don't remember any of that."

Jake frowns again and looks back down at him. "What do you mean you don't remember it? It literally _just_ happened."

The other Librarian shakes his head slightly and blinks blearily up at the ceiling. "That was a long fall, mate," he says almost apologetically. Jake frowns at the way his words slur a bit when he speaks. "Guess it just rattled my brain for a second."

"I'm starting to think it did more than that," Jake mutters, scooting a bit closer to him. He pulls himself into something a half-crouch to examine his fellow Librarian more closely.

He reaches out, a bit clumsily, and probes the area around the bleeding gash as carefully as he can. In spite of his best efforts, Ezekiel still hisses and squeezes his eyes closed in pain. "Sorry, sorry," Jake mumbles, fingers slowly combing through the younger man's hair as he examines the wound.

His eyes have started to adjust to the darkness of the room and even in the dim light he can make out the dark spread of bruises that are beginning to appear around the edges of the wound. Luckily there's no evidence of a skull fracture but the presence of the wound and slur in Ezekiel's words are certainly enough to indicate a rather nasty concussion. As if adding to his conclusion, Ezekiel is squinting up at him like the sun is shining in his eyes even though it's the middle of the night and they're in a dark room. He's having trouble focusing.

"We gotta get you out of here," Jake mumbles, more to himself than to Ezekiel. "You have a concussion."

"That would explain why everything looks fuzzy," Ezekiel mutters back, squeezing his eyes closed against the fluff-filled world around him.

"Hey," Jake says, trying to keep his voice gentle yet firm at the same time. "Don't do that. I need you to stay awake for me, alright? I can't let you fall asleep until I know you haven't permanently rattled your brain." He turns his attention away briefly and looks back up at the ceiling. "We have to figure out how to get out of this room. Can you move?"

Ezekiel nods once and shifts like he's trying to sit up but immediately collapses back to the ground with a clipped, painful cry. Beneath the layers of dirt and dust, his skin goes the color of plaster.

Jake sits back in surprise, both hands going up like it was somehow his fault. "What?! What's wrong?"

"My ribs," Ezekiel grinds out between clenched teeth. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly and his skin has taken on a waxy sheen. One arm comes up to wrap around his torso, covering the injury instinctively. "I think I broke a rib."

Jake resists the urge to curse and takes a deep breath instead. "Okay, just stay still for a second, alright? I'm going to take a look."

Ezekiel nods again, a quick, jerky movement that can't be good for his head. His arm is curled across the left side of his chest, about midway down and pressing toward the middle. He flinches when Jake touches his arm, the movement causing another sharp flare of pain.

"Easy," Jake tells him softly, carefully pulling Ezekiel's arm away from his chest. He takes the hem of his shirt and rolls it up, carefully pushing it out of the way so he can see the extent of the injury. A deep, colorful mass of bruises covers one whole side of Ezekiel's chest, the darkest and ugliest bruises focused around the middle of the bone. Judging by the color and concentration, Jake guesses Ezekiel definitely has two, if not three, broken ribs. He winces in sympathy; he's had broken ribs before and it's not an enjoyable experience.

He lets go of Ezekiel's shirt and gently wraps both hands around the curves of his chest.

His hands are only slightly warmer than Ezekiel's skin which is a worrying factor in and of itself. The younger man flinches, which hurts, and lets out a painful chuckle. "'M not that kind of girl, Stone."

Jake smirks faintly in spite of himself and shakes his head. "Well I'm not adding a notch to my belt just yet," he assures him, focusing his attention back on the task at hand. "I'm trying to make sure you didn't puncture a lung. Take a breath."

Ezekiel does as he's told, taking a shallow, painful breath and letting it out as an airy hiss. Jake is silent for a few seconds, concentrating on the feeling of each breath and how it sounds coming out. There's a noticeable give on two of the ribs and what's definitely at least a crack on the third. He doesn't feel any shuddering or faltering outside of the normal hitch against pain though and there's no wheezing or whistling to accompany the breaths so he figures they're in the clear for the moment.

Satisfied that Ezekiel isn't in immediate danger of asphyxiation, he pulls his shirt back down and nudges his hip lightly. "It going to hurt like hell for a while but I think you'll live to steal another day."

Ezekiel's face is still pinched with pain but he tries for a smile. It comes across as more of a grimace. "That's a relief."

Jake shifts his attention away and looks back up at the hole in the ceiling, cursing silently; their situation just keeps getting worse and worse. Between his leg and shoulder and Ezekiel's busted ribs and head injury, there was no way they were going to be able to climb out.

Eve and Cassandra were still upstairs in the castle but there was no telling how long it might be before they realized the other two were missing. They had split up a little over an hour ago and with the sprawling expanse of the castle stretched out all around them it could be a few hours before they even realize Jake and Ezekiel are in trouble.

Unfortunately, they may not have a few hours. Injuries aside, it was cold down here and the longer they stayed the more at risk they were for hypothermia. They hadn't planned to be trapped in a cave dungeon (who does, really?) and weren't exactly dressed for the trip. Jake has a jacket that's doing very little to keep the cold dampness of the room at bay and Ezekiel is clad in nothing but a long sleeve t-shirt. Given their current circumstances, he guesses they have an hour, maybe an hour and half before serious hypothermia sets in.

To make matters worse, there's no way to call for help either. He's pretty sure both of their cell phones have been damaged or destroyed in the fall and even if they weren't they wouldn't be able to get decent signal in this stupid castle in the first place, let alone the dungeon of said castle. All in all, their situation had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes.

Jake groans in frustration and passes a dusty hand over his face. He knows they can't give up but he's not exactly sure what to do either. Their only chance for survival is the hope that someone will find them before it's too late.

"We need to move over beneath the hole in the ceiling so someone will see us," he says finally, voice bouncing off the walls. He grits his teeth and pulls himself back over toward the opening in the ceiling, blinking up at the hole that punches through. It doesn't look like it's in danger of collapsing anytime soon and with any luck they'll manage to flag someone down for help.

"Come on, Jones," Jake calls back to his injured companion. "We're never going to get out of here if no one can see us." When he doesn't get an immediate response he glances back over at Ezekiel. The younger man's eyes are closed, his expression slack.

"Hey!" Jake snaps, startling Ezekiel back to consciousness. "No sleeping remember?"

The other Librarian groans and mutters something unflattering under his breath but makes a concentrated effort to make himself more alert. It takes a second and lot of hissing and cursing but he manages to pull himself into a somewhat sitting position, propping himself up on one elbow. The movement, no matter how small, leaves him dizzy and out of breath.

His arm instinctively wraps across his ribs again and he tries to suppress a shiver that wracks its way through him. "I really hate this…" he gasps, clenching his teeth and straightening a bit more.

"Me too, kid," Jake agrees with a small nod, watching carefully as his companion slowly but surely manages to pull himself all the way upright. "Think you can pull yourself over here?"

"Yep," Ezekiel assures him, face pinched in concentration and pain. "Just gimme a second…"

The second takes nearly five minutes. He's only about seven feet from where they fell in but it could have been seven miles. Between the head wound and the busted ribs, Ezekiel is only able to move a few inches at a time before he has to stop and take a break. It's a slow, painful process and each inch leaves him weaker and more breathless. He's sweating and shivering at the same time and his skin has taken on a disturbingly ashen appearance. He looks like he's clinging to the last shred of strength and consciousness he has left and once that goes Jake isn't sure he'll be able to get back up.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Ezekiel manages to prop himself against the wall beside Jake, panting and out of breath. He's pale and trembling all over, shaking so hard he seems to vibrate against Jake's shoulder. Whether it's from cold or pain or fatigue or all of the above, Jake doesn't know. He reached out and pats Ezekiel's knee gently in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. "Good job, kid."

Ezekiel is significantly less impressed with the achievement and slumps against Jake's shoulder heavily. He looks only slightly better than a fresh corpse. "Ahh," he groans, wrapping his arm around his injured ribs again. "I hate castles with secret subterranean dungeons."

"Oubliette," Jake says, frowning as the younger man continues to shiver and tremble beside him.

"Oo-blee-what?"

"I think we're in an oubliette," Jake repeats, meeting the eyes of his fellow Librarian. Ezekiel just stares at him. "It's a type of prison cell," he clarifies, motioning around the room with this hand. "A small, subterranean room that's only accessible through a trap door in the ceiling. In French it means 'forgotten room'."

"I didn't think those were real," Ezekiel grumbles, shifting a bit and wincing as the movement pulls at his injured ribs. The shivering has died down a little and he feels more strung out and exhausted than he's ever felt in his life. "I thought they were invented by Jim Henson and David Bowie's codpiece."

Jake smirks in spite of himself. "They're real alright and I'm pretty sure we're in one."

"Great," Ezekiel groans. "So if we're trapped in a forgotten room how is anyone going to be able to find us?"

Jake frowns, the reality of the question striking him again. The whole purpose of an oubliette was for it to be forgotten which meant that probably few, if any, people knew it was even down here. Jake and Ezekiel had found it by accident, quite literally tumbling into it when the floor gave way. The chances of anyone else knowing it was down here or even where to look were remarkably slim. All of these thoughts had crossed Jake's mind already but he couldn't bring himself to admit to the increasing desperateness of their situation just yet.

"Eve and Cassandra are still in the castle," he says finally, not sure if he's speaking to himself or Ezekiel. "They'll notice we're missing and come looking for us."

 _Eventually_ , his brain adds and he fights to ignore it.

"You seem pretty sure about that," Ezekiel mumbles thickly, slumping against Jake's shoulder a bit more.

"I am sure," the other Librarian says, moving his arm a little so Ezekiel can get more comfortable. "They'll find us, don't worry."

He doesn't know how long he stares up at the hole in the ceiling, straining his ears to hear anything resembling voices or help coming. It's hard to hear anything to be honest; the walls of the oubliette block the noise from above and amplify it in the space around them. As hard as he tries, all he can hear is the rapid chattering of their teeth in the cold darkness of the room. His phone is useless, so is Ezekiel's, and making a door back to the Library was impossible. Whether it was built that way or there was some kind of magic involved, the oubliette ensured that no one, regardless of 21st century technology or magic on their side, was getting out.

Jake isn't sure how long they've been down here but he knows the cold, damp darkness was beginning to take its toll. They were both shivering and miserable, strength and awareness slipping as their body heat continued to drop. Jake can't feel his hands and his injured shoulder aches all the way down to the bone. The pain from his fractured ankle and twisted knee has transformed from a hot, splitting throb to a constant, mind-numbing burn. He's in bad shape but he knows Ezekiel is worse.

Moderate hypothermia aside, it's becoming harder and harder to keep Ezekiel awake. His level of consciousness and awareness had begun to dip over the past half hour and when he was conscious he was confused and disoriented. He's heavy and boneless against Jake's shoulder and he slips unconscious more often than not in spite of his best efforts. Jake keeps nudging him, talking to him, trying to keep him awake and focused as much as he can, but it's becoming pretty obvious that the younger man is in dire need of medical attention.

An hour passes, or maybe it's only a few minutes (time feels extended yet nonexistent down here) but Jake knows they need to do something soon or they'll both die down here. Ezekiel is slumped against him, head heavy against the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and Jake can't tell if he's awake or not. He moves his arm slightly, just enough to jostle Ezekiel back to awareness.

The younger man blinks slowly but the movement seems uncoordinated and difficult. He frowns and looks around the room. "Where are we?"

Jake frowns in concern and sighs softly. This was about the third time in the past hour(?) that Ezekiel had asked this. "We fell down a hole, remember?" he says patiently, pointing up toward the opening in the ceiling.

Ezekiel frowns again and shakes his head. "No."

"Didn't think so," Jake mutters to himself. "We've been stuck down here for about an hour or so now."

"Oh," Ezekiel mumbles, slumping back against the wall heavily. "That sucks."

"Yep," Jake agrees, working his injured arm out of his jacket slowly. It hurts and the pain makes him feel a little lightheaded but he manages to slip the jacket off after a few agonizing seconds. He lays it on the ground beside him and tugs on Ezekiel's sleeve. "Come here."

The younger man looks at him and blinks slowly in confusion. The fact that his eyes don't close at exactly the same time is troubling.

Jake sighs and drops his head back against the wall. "We need to stay warm if we're going to survive down here," he explains as patiently as he can. He's dealt with his fair share of head injuries in the past and knows that any kind of explanation needs to be broken down like it's being given to a three-year-old. "We're going to share body heat."

Ezekiel opens his mouth like he wants to say something but nothing comes out. His skin has taken on an unnerving greyish tone and his lips are tinged blue. Jake doesn't wait for him to come up with a response.

He reaches out and grabs a handful of the other man's shirt, carefully dragging him over to him. Ezekiel nearly topples over from the sudden change in direction and it takes a concentrated effort on Jake's part to keep him upright. It takes a lot of work and maneuvering between Jake's injured leg and Ezekiel's injured ribs but he manages to get the younger Librarian tucked into the space between his outstretched legs.

Step One accomplished, he tugs Ezekiel back against his chest and grabs his jacket from the ground, bundling it over the other man's chest and tucking it around him. He works his arms under the jacket as well, snaking them around Ezekiel's waist (mindful of his ribs) and holding on loosely.

Exhausted by even that small amount of effort, Ezekiel drops his head back against Jake's shoulder again, breathing shallow and ragged. His heartbeat is an alarming staccato beneath Jake's hand, the rhythm too quick and too uneven for his liking. Ezekiel is silent for several seconds, heavy and limp against Jake's chest, and for a moment the older man fears he's lost consciousness again.

"Dude," Ezekiel gasps finally, eyes squeezed shut with pain. "Are we cuddling right now?"

Jake rolls his eyes a bit and slumps back against the wall. "Yes, Jones, technically we are cuddling. If it makes you feel better you can call it a Survival Hug."

Ezekiel shakes his head and laughs quietly; it sounds thin and worn. "I don't care, mate. If this is what keeps us alive I'll cuddle with you until the cows come home."

Jake huffs, which could be mistaken for a laugh or a sigh. "Hopefully it won't be that long," he mumbles, looking back up at the ceiling. Ezekiel's forehead is resting against his cheek from where he's slumped against him and his skin feels cool and clammy. Jake frowns and pulls him a bit closer. Ezekiel's health is declining much faster than he anticipated; he feels like he's slipping further away with every passing minute.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I built a miniature Roman aqueduct for my dad?" he asks suddenly, looking down at the other Librarian.

"Mate," Ezekiel mumbles in exhausted yet amused exasperation. "You spend more time talking about 15th century Spanish artists than you do talking about your childhood. So no, I don't think you've told me this story."

Jake takes the admission and continues. "There was this construction site my dad was working on when I was a kid, I was probably about twelve or thirteen at the time. Anyway, it was out in the middle of nowhere, the kind of place where there are no water lines, and they were having a lot of trouble getting water to the site. My old man kept bringing in these huge water trucks day after day but that gets expensive after awhile, you know?"

"Mm," Ezekiel hums in what could be considered agreement.

"So anyway my dad kept bringing me out to this site, telling me about all the equipment and the work they were doing, and all that, and I notice there's this stream just beyond hill about a quarter of a mile away. It wasn't big or anything but it was deep enough and the water was flowing through it and I figured if we could get some of that water redirected to the construction site, it would solve a lot of their problems."

Ezekiel shivers again and Jake tightens his arms around him before he continues. "So the next day when my dad is busy with some of the other workers, I grabbed some equipment and went out to the stream and started building an aqueduct. I had all the materials and the basis for the system is controlled by gravity more than anything so it only took a few hours to redirect the stream to the construction site."

"And what'd y'r dad say?" Ezekiel asks, his voice soft and more than a little slurred as he speaks.

Jake's expression darkens a little and he shakes his head. "My dad told me to quit wasting time "building sandcastles" and get back to work. He told me that if I wanted to spend the day wasting company materials I should do it on my own time and out of my own pocket. Nevermind the fact that I had solved their water problem and constructed a 4th century Roman aqueduct out of bricks and concrete." He sighs and drops back against the wall a bit. "Needless to say, my old man wasn't impressed."

"Dick," Ezekiel mutters.

Jake almost smiles at that. "Yep," he says, looking back up at the ceiling again. Ezekiel is getting heavy and boneless against him again and he jostles him gently to keep him awake. "What about you, huh? Tell me something about your past."

Ezekiel shakes his head once. "Pass."

Jake resists the urge to roll his eyes. For being a master thief and an open book about all of his past exploits, Ezekiel Jones was remarkably tight-lipped about his childhood. "Alright, then tell me about some of the things you've stolen." He can't believe he's having this conversation but if it keeps Ezekiel conscious he's more than happy to oblige. "What was your favorite heist?"

The younger man doesn't answer for a second, his body heavy and limp against Jake's chest. Jake frowns and nudges him again. "Jones!"

"Ah," the thief grumbles, wincing sharply. "Loud."

"Favorite heist, Jones."

"I'm thinking," Ezekiel grumbles impatiently, scowling softly at the insistence. He's silent for another moment, eyes a little unfocused. "A laptop," he says finally.

Jake almost laughs. "A laptop? Seriously? Of all the things you've ever stolen, a laptop is your answer?"

"Yup," the other man mumbles, head falling back against Jake's shoulder. It seems like he's going to leave the conversation at that but Jake's not having it.

"Well?" he says, prompting his fellow Librarian to continue. "Why was that your favorite? Why does that one stand out more than the others?"

"'s how Flynn found me," Ezekiel tells him quietly.

"What?"

"Mmhm," the thief hums in response. "Stole a laptop fr'm one of the security guards at this museum in Geneva 'nd hacked the security system for the b'ilding. I had planned on stealin' a dagger but Flynn found me instead."

Jake frowns and pulls the jacket a bit tighter across Ezekiel's chest. He really doesn't like how much his words are beginning to slur together. "Okay, so Flynn found you. Then what?"

Ezekiel smiles faintly at the memory. "Found a home 'nd you guys."

It's oddly sentimental and touching that Ezekiel's favorite heist involved something that brought them all together. He's always so flippant and breezy about the Library and his role as a Librarian that the admission is surprising. Maybe Ezekiel actually cares more about the Library than he lets on.

"That's weirdly sappy, Jones," Jake tells him with a small, amused smile.

"I h've my moments." Ezekiel takes a deep, shuddering breath and winces. "'M tired..." he mumbles, words thick and heavy like they're coated in molasses. That admission seems to drain him of what little energy he has left and he slumps heavily against Jake's chest like a ragdoll. He's fading, much faster than he was before, and it's clear he's not going to last much longer down here.

"Hey," Jake says, heart suddenly catching in his throat. He shakes Ezekiel again, a little harder than he means to, and the younger man groans. "Just stay with me, alright? We're going to get out of here, you just have to hang on."

"'m tryin'," Ezekiel mumbles, the words tripping and tumbling over themselves. Trying is much harder than it looks, though, and Ezekiel is completely unconscious less than five seconds later.

Jake growls to himself and hugs the younger man to his chest tightly. In spite of his reassurances, he's starting to doubt Eve and Cassandra will find them in time. Jake can probably hold out for another hour or so but Ezekiel has less than a fraction of that time on his side. Jake is doing everything he can but if they don't get out soon…

He shakes his head, refusing to even think about the alternative. He looks around the room again, searching for literally anything that might help them get out of this God forsaken tomb. The walls are completely bare and made out of chiseled rock, smooth all the way down to the floor. There are no fissures or holes in the walls they can use as handholds to climb out and the hole is much too high to reach even if they were both at full health. Still, there has to be something they can-

Jake freezes suddenly and listens. There's an echo above them, high up and far away. He listens again, straining his ears toward the sound. It's faint, echoing and distorted by the stone walls of the castle, but he could swear he heard Eve's voice.

"Baird?!" he shouts as loud as he can, eyes glued on the hole in the ceiling. "Baird, are you there? Can you hear me?!"

The voices stop and for one heart-wrenching moment Jake is afraid they've moved on. Then, a few seconds later, the voice calls out again a bit closer this time. "Stone? Jones? Are you two down here?"

"Eve!" Jake shouts, hoping his voice isn't drowned out by the thick walls around them. "Eve we're down here!"

He hears footsteps above them, the sound bouncing around over their heads, but they're coming their way. Almost giddy with relief, Jake laughs and shakes Ezekiel. "Jones! Hey, wake up! They found us! Help's coming!"

The younger man doesn't respond, his head lolling limply against Jake's shoulder. For a second Jake can't tell if he's unconscious or dead and it sends a cold stab of panic through him. "Jones," he says again, shaking the thief a bit more roughly. He knows he should be more cautious of the broken ribs and the concussion but the growing panic makes it easy to ignore.

Ezekiel remains limp against Jake's chest, deeply unconscious and unresponsive. He's still breathing, Jake can feel shallow rise and fall of his chest beneath his hands, but it's weak and unsteady. "Jones," he tries again, holding him close and shaking him once more. "Ezekiel!"

"Stone!" Eve's voice echoes above them and suddenly she's there, crouched on the edge of the hole and peering down at them. It takes a second for her eyes to focus on them but once they do they widen significantly. "Oh my God," she mutters before turning her attention over her shoulder. "Cassandra! I found them! They're over here!"

She looks back down into the chamber, squinting a little to see them in the dusty darkness. "Stone, are you two alright? What happened?"

"The floor gave way and we fell in," Jake calls up to her, keeping his arms tight around his unconscious companion. "Ezekiel's hurt bad, Eve. He's got a couple of broken ribs and a concussion, we need to get him out of here."

Eve curses softly and nods. "What about you? Are you alright?"

Jake shakes his head. "I broke my ankle when I landed. Leg's killing me and so is my shoulder."

The Guardian nods again and glances back over her shoulder. "Okay, just hang tight, alright? Cassandra went to find a ladder or some rope or something so we can get you out."

Jake laughs a bit ironically. "Believe me, we're not going anywhere. We've been trying for a while now."

Eve smiles faintly at the joke but her expression sobers almost immediately. "How long has he been unconscious?" she asks, her attention drawn to Ezekiel.

"He's been in and out for a while now," Jake calls back, glancing at the younger man worriedly. "He lost consciousness a few minutes ago and I can't wake him up."

Eve frowns in concern. "How's his breathing?"

Jake presses one hand to Ezekiel's chest, measuring the shuddering rise and fall of two breaths. "Breathing's shallow and uneven," he calls up, moving his hand down and finding the younger man's wrist beneath the jacket. He presses his fingertips to the underside of it and concentrates. "His pulse is really slow."

Eve frowns at the news and pulls away from the hole a bit, speaking to someone quickly. There are a few unfamiliar voices above them but Jake can hear them talking about ladders and ropes. A few seconds later one of the castle groundskeepers appears with an extension ladder that he carefully lowers into the hole.

It's a welcome sight to be sure but it brings up a rather crucial issue. Neither of them are going to be able to climb out of the chamber on their own and unless someone comes up with some sort of basket or sling, Jake's not sure how they're going to get out. Not only that, the ceiling of the chamber/floor of the dungeon is structurally unsound and could collapse further if the ladder puts too much pressure against the side of the hole. It's risky all the way around and he would be perfectly happy not being crushed by falling rubble if it's all the same.

There's the chattering of voices overhead and the ladder shakes briefly as it's stabilized. Suddenly a man appears at the top of it, climbing down the ladder into the oubliette with them. It takes him a few seconds but he manages to get to the bottom of the pit without the ceiling collapsing in on them so that's a plus.

"Evening, gents," he says by way of greeting, voice warm and slightly accented. He looks like he's in his early forties with greying brown hair and dark eyes. "Let's get you two out here, huh?" He reaches toward Ezekiel and Jake tightens his arms around the younger man slightly.

It's a silly reaction but he can't help it. He knows the man is here to help but he's reluctant to let this person, this stranger, take Ezekiel away from him just yet. He feels a protective surge for his injured companion and glares a little at the man who's come to their aid.

The man seems to understand this and holds his hands up briefly in surrender. "Easy, lad, I'm not going to hurt him. I was with the volunteer fire department for twenty years; I'm going to help you get out of here."

Jake hesitates for a split second more before finally nodding and loosening his hold on the younger man. Ezekiel needs help and he can't get that down here. "Just be careful," he tells him, the words coming out as both a plea and something of a warning. Their rescuer nods in acknowledgement and reaches out, carefully pulling the unconscious Librarian into his arms.

"Alright," the man tells him as he stoops to drape Ezekiel over his shoulder. It takes a second for him to to get the unconscious man arranged properly to keep the pressure off his broken ribs. "I'm going to take your friend up first and then I'm going to come back down for you. An ambulance is on its way and it should be here by the time I get you both up. Just stay still, stay calm, and I'll get you out of here in no time, yeah?"

Jake nods in agreement but his eyes are locked on Ezekiel's limp, motionless form. The younger man hasn't regained consciousness for several minutes now and Jake feels a sickening tug in his stomach at what that might mean. Maybe they were too late after all...

Their rescuer reaches out and pats him on the arm lightly. "Don't worry, you're both going to be fine," he says and for some reason it makes Jake feel marginally better. Marginally. The man stands slowly, keeping a firm grip on his unconscious charge, and makes his way back to the ladder. He signals to someone up above and steps on, slowly but surely making his way up the rungs with Ezekiel slung over his shoulders.

Jake feels like he holds his breath the entire time they're ascending the ladder. His eyes remain locked on his fellow Librarian, watching carefully for any movement or signs of life. He thinks it's probably a good thing Ezekiel is out for this part because he'd probably be making it much more complicated if he were awake and alert.

It takes less than a minute for the man to get Ezekiel cleared of the hole and Eve and Cassandra scoop him up the second he's out. Once they take him, the man turns and climbs back down into the pit again. He clears the final rung a few seconds later and turns toward Jake, flashing a smile in the dim light. "Alright, lad, your turn."

The man crouches down and reaches out, gripping the hand of Jake's uninjured arm and pulling him forward slowly. He's trying to be gentle but everything hurts and the gesture falls flat. The cold and swelling from the injuries he'd sustained in the fall make that small amount of movement nearly unbearable and Jake suppresses a groan as he pushes his back off the wall.

"Easy, easy," his rescuer advises, keeping a firm grip on Jake's hand to keep him from falling backwards. "Take it slow."

It takes a few seconds but Jake finally manages to pull himself away from the wall and closer toward the ladder. His rescuer stays with him the whole time, gently coaxing him up and wrapping his good arm around his shoulders to help him stand. The change in position is enough to make Jake dizzy and he teeters dangerously for a second, the other man's arm wrapped tightly around his waist and gripping the arm around his shoulder firmly.

When the black and white spots finally clear from his vision, Jake lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head slowly. He hates admitting to this but it's the truth. "I don't think I'm going to be able to climb out of here, man," he says, looking first at the ladder and then at the hole high above them.

The rescuer follows his gaze and chuckles softly. "I wouldn't expect you to with your leg busted up like that." He squeezes Jake's wrist gently and nods toward the ladder. "Which is why I'm going to carry you up just like I did your friend. Might be a bit uncomfortable for a minute or two but it'll keep the pressure off your leg and you won't run as much of a risk of falling off."

Jake wants to protest this. First of all, he's significantly heavier than Ezekiel even with the younger man being dead weight and unconscious. Second...well, it's embarrassing. Even in the desperation of their current situation, being carried up a ladder by a volunteer firefighter is just a little embarrassing. He's well aware he can't climb up on his own but Jake still hates feeling helpless.

He doesn't get a chance to voice all of this, however, as his rescuer hunches a little and scoops him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Jake winces as the position pulls at his injured shoulder and leg but he stays still nonetheless. "Just hang on tight and don't look down," his rescuer tells him as he steps up onto the ladder. "We'll be out of here in no time."

Jake nods once and holds on tight as they slowly make their way up the ladder and out of the oubliette. He may or may not have flashed a quick, single-fingered salute to the pit as they cleared the final rung, leaving the cold, damp darkness of the oubliette behind.

There are people with flashlights and spotlights set up in the dungeon and it's uncomfortably bright compared to the darkness below. Jake squints against the harsh light, flinching in surprise when someone grabs his uninjured arm and helps pulls him the rest of the way out of the hole. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust and realize Eve is the one holding onto his arm.

"Hey, you're okay," she says, pulling him into a gentle hug and wrapping a thick, heavy blanket around his shoulders. "You're okay."

The rescuer steps off the ladder and comes around to Jake's other side, joining Eve in helping him hobble over to a nearby wall. Jake's leg gives out completely by the time they reach it and he slides down onto the floor with a pained hiss.

"How's Ezekiel?" he asks, eyes squeezed shut in pain. He managed to catch a brief glimpse of the younger man laid out on the floor a few feet away, covered in a blanket as well with Cassandra hovering beside him.

Eve frowns and looks over at him. "We're not sure yet," she admits quietly, her mouth pulled in a worried frown. She turns her attention back to Jake and squeezes his hand gently. "You did a good job down there, you kept him alive. I'm just sorry it took us so long to find you two."

Jake shakes his head slowly. "It's okay," he says, his own voice sounding loud and harsh in his ears. "I knew you'd find us eventually."

His eyes land on Ezekiel's still form again. Cassandra is sitting beside him, gripping one limp hand in both of hers and trying to rub some warmth back into it. Her eyes are locked on him and she's speaking quietly but the other Librarian is far too unconscious to hear any of it. Ezekiel is still impossibly pale and motionless but there's a little more color to his skin now so Jake thinks that's a plus. He hopes so at least.

A team of paramedics enters the dungeon a second or so later, one group immediately focusing in on Ezekiel while the other comes over to where Jake is sitting. Eve steps away as crouch down in front of him, checking his vitals and assessing his injuries. They splint his leg and bind his shoulder loosely to prevent further movement, checking him over carefully for any further injuries. Jake barely notices them, his focus is still on Ezekiel.

There are three paramedics around him, one of them fitting him with a neck brace while another one starts an IV. The third is documenting his vital signs and checking his level of consciousness (which is more or less nonexistent at the moment). Cassandra has stepped to the side and she's watching with wide, tear-filled eyes. She suppresses a tiny, hiccupped sob when they load him onto a stretcher and wheel him out of the dungeon.

The other team waits until the first is clear before taking Jake and slowly making their way to the exit as well. Eve and Cassandra follow them and the dungeon, along with its oubliette, disappear behind them. There are two ambulances waiting outside, bright lights casting the castle in a startling blue and red glow. Ezekiel has already been loaded into the back of one, the paramedics crowding around him and getting him secured for transport. Cassandra takes a hesitant step forward and receives a nod from one of the paramedics. A second later she's hopping into the back of the ambulance and taking a seat on stretched out along the side, tucking herself against the wall.

Eve walks alongside the gurney Jake has been loaded onto, eyes darting from him to the ambulance holding Ezekiel. She catches Cassandra's eye and the younger woman gives her a watery smile and a small thumbs up just as the doors close and the ambulance pulls away with them inside. She lets out a small, worried sigh and follows along as Jake is carefully loaded into the back of the second ambulance. She steps onboard behind him, taking a seat on the bench beside the gurney and watching as the paramedics flutter around him to make sure his injuries are stabilized.

Jake's eyes are barely open by this point, exhaustion and pain finally taking their toll, and Eve reaches out to squeeze his hand. "You're okay," she assures him quietly with a small, warm smile. "Get some rest."

Jake doesn't even try to fight it anymore. He nods briefly and closes his eyes, slipping away before the ambulance even starts moving.

 **OOOOO**

Ezekiel wakes to the words of Ernest Hemingway. Specifically, _The Old Man and the Sea._ He knows because he hates that book.

He cracks his eyes open slowly, wincing when the glare of the overhead light causes his retinas to contract painfully. It takes a few seconds of blinking before he's able to really focus on anything. The ceiling looks somewhat familiar but his thought process is a bit slow so it takes a second for him to realize he's in the Library. More accurately, he's in his room at the Library.

He frowns, trying to remember what happened and how he got here. His memories are scattered and disjointed, beginning and ending abruptly, but he thinks he remembers a cave. Or a dungeon. Or-

"Oubliette," a voice corrects from somewhere off to the side and he hears the rustle of pages as a book is gently closed. "We were stuck in an oubliette."

Ezekiel frowns again; he hadn't realized he'd been mumbling to himself until just now. He winces and turns his head to the side, eyes finally coming to rest on Jake sitting a few feet away. The older Librarian is reclined back in a chair against the wall, a book resting in his lap. He offers a small smile when Ezekiel finally looks at him. "How ya feelin', Jones?"

Ezekiel considers that question and thinks it over for a moment. He doesn't feel great, not by a long shot, but he doesn't feel awful either. Mostly he just feels stiff, like he's been laying in one position for too long. "Not terrible?" he says finally, the answer coming out as somewhat of a question.

Jake accepts this response with a nod and stands slowly, walking over to the edge of the bed. He's limping just slightly but it's barely noticeable. "'Not terrible' is pretty good considering you smacked your head on a concrete floor," he teases lightly, reaching out and patting Ezekiel on the shoulder. "Could have been a lot worse."

Ezekiel thinks for a second, trying to remember when that happened. Once again, his memories are fuzzy and more than a little useless right now. He wants to ask for details but the thought of it makes his head hurt. "When did we get back to the Library?" he asks, opting for an easier question instead.

"Yesterday afternoon," Jake tells him, reaching back and pulling the chair over the edge of the bed. He sinks down into it a second later, one leg a little stiffer than the other like it's still a somewhat painful to move it. He sighs and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "A two-day stint in the hospital was about all any of us could stand so as soon as we were given the go-ahead we booked it back here."

A few hazy memories of that filter back through his mind. He remember the hospital and the worst headache of his life and then hanging rather heavily on Eve as they opened a door to the Library in the hospital broom closet. Things get a bit dodgy after that and he only remembers a few moments of wakefulness in the aftermath.

"Your leg," he says after a minute, gesturing toward the leg Jake is still slightly favoring.

The other man looks down at the indicated limb and nods once. "Yeah, busted up my knee pretty bad and broke three bones in my ankle. Lucky for us, the staff of Asclepius is tucked away in the Library so that took care of most of it. Patched you up too," he says, nodding toward Ezekiel. "Those broken ribs and that knot on your head would've kept you sidelined for at least a month; the staff managed to cut it down to just a couple days."

Ezekiel lifts one hand to press it against his side. His ribs are still tender and sore but not nearly as excruciating as they had been before. His head feels the same way, thick and heavy from the injury but nowhere near as bad as it was when they were stuck in the oubliette.

"Jenkins said to give it another day or so before you get back on your feet," Jake continues, propping his still-healing leg on the edge of the bed. "Which is why Eve has kept us all on round-the-clock Jones-watch since we got back."

Ezekiel smirks faintly and shakes his head. "Is that why you're camped out in here reading the world's most boring book?"

Jake shrugs one shoulder loosely and drums his fingers along the book cover. "Among other reasons," he answers vaguely, leaning back against the back of the chair. "She wanted to make sure you didn't try to do anything dumb like get up and take another header before you're fully healed."

Ezekiel smirks again and thinks back to the their assignment. "Did they find the artifact?"

The older man nods and thumbs back through the book to relocate the page he stopped. "It was a mirror," he tells him, looking up from the book briefly. "A large mirror in one of the upper rooms of the castle had shattered and the caretakers decided to bring in another one. Apparently, the one they found had quite the history which explains their recent surge in supernatural activity."

He nods over his shoulder toward the rest of the Library. "Eve and Cassandra brought it back this morning and got it secured in one of the wings dedicated to cursed and haunted artifacts."

Ezekiel nods once in approval and sinks back against the mattress. He feels heavy and exhausted and he's not sure how much of that is from his injuries and how much of it from healing from said injuries. He thinks it's just as well that he's already in bed because he doubts he's going to be awake for much longer.

"Hey Jones," Jakes says after a moment, his voice strangely quiet. "When we were down in the oubliette you said your favorite heist was a laptop because that's how Flynn found you."

The younger Librarian frowns a little; he doesn't remember telling that story but he's guessing he did at some point because Jake obviously knows about it. It's not something he talks about for a number of reasons, not the least of which is because it's embarrassing and sentimental and that's not really his thing. But Jake definitely knows about it so it's not like he can deny it now.

"I'm glad he found you too," Jake says finally, a very small half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

Ezekiel copies the expression and shakes his head. "Careful mate, you might actually make me think you care," he teases lightly, shifting just a little to get more comfortable. "But thanks. And thanks for, you know, keeping me alive and the Survival Hug and all that."

Jake nods once and opens the book again. "Anytime, Jones. Anytime."

He starts reading again, his voice soft and quiet, and Ezekiel relaxes back against the mattress and closes his eyes.

"This is honestly the worst book in the world," he mumbles sleepily after a few minutes.

"Shut up and go to sleep, Jones," Jake mutters back, absently tugging the blanket covering Ezekiel a little higher up and smoothing it over his chest.

"Just sayin'," Ezekiel mumbles back, sinking a little further into the mattress. He hates this book, he really does, but he decides it's not so bad when Jake is reading it so he keeps his eyes closed and listens, drifting away to the story of a man and a marlin.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading guys! :D**


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